In the year that passed, we loved
by OverdoseFantasy
Summary: Everyone has a special chapter in their life that they like to remember. For Soma, it's a person. For Arshad, it's a life.
1. Pierrot laughs at us

**_I like the smiling clown better_**

 ** _I like the clown who knows sadness better_**

\- **_IU – Pierrot laughs at us_**

"I wouldn't jump today."

Startled, Soma turned around. Upon spotting the older man, he sighed and turned back. "And why?" he said, sounding annoyed, more than anything, "Because the weather is so nice today?"

When the man didn't reply, Soma almost thought he'd truly found the reason, just to be proved wrong.

"Because it's my birthday."

Arshad leaned onto the railing, next to Soma, not acknowledging the teenager. Without saying anything else, he lighted a cigarette, staring off into space.

"You should stop that, you know," Soma broke the silence, "Smoking, I mean. It's bad, for your lungs."

Arshad couldn't keep from laughing. "Says the one who stayed a week in the hospital because he drank bleach."

"That's something different," Soma argued, almost pouting, "I wanted to die."

Arshad raised a brow. He still wasn't looking at the young teen.

"What makes you think I don't?"

Soma paused. Unsure, he said, "Well. Smoking takes a long time to kill you, doesn't it?"

Arshad shrugged. "Perhaps I want to die slowly."

"Sorry. I'm not buying it." Soma blindly reached for the cigarette, taking it from the older man.

Arshad wasn't angry. He simply smiled, and, when the teen was facing away from him again, lighted another cigarette.

"You're right. I am not really planning on dying, at least not yet."

A breeze blew through the violet ponytail of the younger boy. His hands still held on tight to the railing, his butt barely still touching the roof's edge. Then, with a defeated sigh and a puff of air, he swung his legs back over the railing, coming to stand next to Arshad.

"Perhaps you're right. Today is a far too beautiful day to spend it with thoughts of dying."

And so they found themselves spending the rest of the lunch break in the school's infirmary, which was also something like Arshad's office. Soma had gone to get some cake from the cafeteria (they usually gave food to him for free), and Arshad had made himself busy with making coffee.

Now, as Soma returned with a plate full of cake and muffins, he made to clean the office table.

"You know what, they even gave me the chocolate cake they usually give to the headmaster," he chuckled, "It pays being handsome."

"Then get your handsome ass over here, the coffee's getting cold."

Soma giggled, sitting down on Arshad's office chair. The man shot him a glare. He obviously had been the one who wanted to sit down. Now, instead, he leaned against the windowsill.

The violet-haired teen lifted the foil off the plate, glancing at it. "They even gave me forks."

But the two Indians didn't bother with forks. Instead, they stuck to their country's culture, eating the cake with bare hands. They didn't really talk, then again, they usually never did, since Soma despised small talk just as much as Arshad did.

"Today is our anniversary," Soma finally said, having enough of the usual silence between them.

"Hm?" was all the answer he got.

Sighing, he set away his plate and said, "The 24th. It was the 24th when we met in February"

Arshad crooked a brow, still finding the cake more interesting than Soma. "Drop it. I'm not gonna celebrate our meeting on my birthday."

"Speaking of it, how old are you even? 39? 40?"

It was meant as a joke. But Arshad seemed to have taken offense in the comment of the younger man and said so by shooting him a glare.

"29. I'm turning 29."

But Soma didn't let go of his little joke. At least not that easily.

"Really? Well, your hair says differently."

Arshad was tempted to throw some cake in his handsome face.

"I already explained it to you, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did," Soma agreed, "But I didn't pay attention."

That was the breaking point.

Without giving so much as a warning, Arshad threw the cake at him. Soma dashed it, grinning brightly at the white-haired man. When said one realized that the cake had instead hit the wall behind the doctor's couch, he let loose a flood of swear words (most of them wishing bad to befall the younger teen), before getting up to clean it off.

"The headmaster's gonna fire me. This time for sure," he muttered while throwing away the mashed pieces of the cake.

"Yeah. Like the last twenty times you said that. Perhaps I should have bought you a dictionary?"

Arshad didn't even get to answer. Outside, somebody was frantically beating against the door.

"Kadar! We know you're in there, come out at once! Whole team's been lookin' for you."

Soma rolled his eyes. He was used to this. Used to the P4 getting on his nerves. Being a popular student sure wasn't easy. Then again, Soma never asked for it anyways. It probably came with being the son of a CEO.

"Man, I hate those guys," he muttered, sticking his tongue out.

Arshad couldn't really blame him. He didn't like the Prefects himself, but of course his job permitted him from having any kind of personal opinion towards a student. Then again, he was spending his free time with Kadar, which probably also counted as a personal opinion.

"Come on, you better don't want to let them down. Isn't the competition this week?"

"It's only national," Soma pouted, "Besides, they'll be fine on their own."

Another voice came from outside. "Kadar, I'm counting to ten!"

"Do what you like."

Arshad really didn't have the nerve to watch this anymore. He unlocked the door and opened it so rapidly that Greenhill and Redmond nearly stumbled into the office. They quickly composed themselves though. Greenhill was the first to regain his ability to speak.

"See, we knew you were there. You had promised you wouldn't skip today, remember?"

"And he wasn't going to," Arshad interrupted the conversation, soon before the purple-haired teen could even speak.

He felt something like satisfaction when the two Prefects gripped the student's arms and pulled him along, out of the room. Perhaps he hadn't been entirely fair, but Arshad had things he had to do as well. He couldn't just sit around the whole day and make sure that a certain purple-haired boy didn't kill himself.

Other people were capable of doing that too.

"Best of luck!" he called after the three, but he was probably lucky that the teen didn't hear him anymore. Otherwise this comment would probably have been followed by a thrown shoe.

After his office had quieted down, he had actually been wanting to clean away the rest of the mess he'd made, but something held him back. The teen's student records. Neatly spread out all over the table. Arshad had been reading through it, shortly before he'd decided to join the teen on the rooftop.

Now, upon realizing the teen had most probably seen them, he felt terrible. He hadn't read them to spy on Soma. (To be completely honest, Arshad was pretty sure there wasn't anything new for him which he could learn about the purple-haired boy, anyway.)

He had wanted to help him. Find a way to get him out of that house, before he could put his thoughts of dying into action.

This time, as the door opened, he lifted his head, eagerly expecting the teen to enter. Instead, one of the freshman's entered. Arshad didn't remember the girl's name, but he'd seen her around rather often.

Most times she came in with a bleeding finger, because she had hurt herself accidentally while sewing.

Arshad shot her a smile, asking her to sit down, while hoping he'd get a chance to apologize to Soma.

Heyy there. Another Somagni fic. (Still spreading love for this pairing!)

This is one of my...deeper? fics and so far I really like it. I love the AU setting and just have tons of fun writing it. I hope it's as much fun reading it.

Oh right, the chapter's titles (and first lines) are parts of my favorite songs that I credit underneath the quote part.

Well then, see you next time!


	2. No Promises

**_Promise me no promises_**

 ** _Don't you promise me nothing_**

\- **_Cheat Codes, Demi Lovato – No Promises_**

Soma took a deep breath, before reaching for the door handle. He had only just opened the door and entered the house when the noise enveloped him. It was strange. In a way, these voices and noises were familiar to him. Then again, they weren't, because it was a new day.

On the couch, inside the huge, luxurious living room, sat his father, surrounded by various women. But not just women that were unknown to Soma. His mother as well. Soma bit his lip, not daring to disturb his father's doing (whatever it was he was doing).

He thought it sad how his mother still tried to regain her husband's affections, instead of just getting a divorce. Soma wasn't even thinking of himself when he thought this. The damage had been done to him already, and he didn't blame his mother for it. Instead, he blamed his father.

And someone else. He blamed Tamal, his oldest brother, for leaving everything to him, the youngest. Expect for Tamal none of the brother's had moved out by now.

Soma suspected because living in an estate was an easy life. But he knew very well that, as soon as he turned 18, he'd be out of here.

Soma made his way to the kitchen, not paying attention to the sounds emanating from the living room.

The kitchen had been pretty empty ever since his dad fired all the cooks. Old Mohini had been the only one to stay. And Soma knew that she had only stayed because she feared for the well-being of her "wards", how she called Soma and his brothers. Soma was truly thankful for Mohini. She was the least bit of normality in this extremely mad household. Next to Ranjit perhaps.

Ranjit always acted like his smaller brother, even though he was actually a year older. But Ranjit had never really gotten over the negligence of his father. Other than Soma, who'd just learned to accept it over the years.

So the purple-haired boy had started caring for his older brothers, because, so he'd said, it helped him forget how lonely he actually was.

"Namaste, Mohini," he said, leaning against the doorframe.

The old cook shot him a smile. "Namaste, Soma. What? You haven't brought handsome with you?"

For a second, Soma was extremely startled, until he realized whom Mohini was talking about. "Oh," he sounded almost horrified, "Oh, you meant Ranjit."

Mohini, taking the pot from the stove, lifted a brow. Though she didn't look at Soma, the teen blushed. "Well, whom did you think I was talking about?"

But Soma dodged that question. "Can I take some of the curry upstairs?"

"Little fella, aren't you supposed to eat downstairs?" Mohini didn't sound angry. She rather sounded amused. But without giving so much as an answer, she filled a bowl for Soma and gave it to him.

"You know," she said, while he was already leaving the kitchen, "You really should start eating more diverse food. Aren't you sick of curry already?"

Soma was silent for a bit. He simply stirred his curry, staring at it in an almost forlorn manner. Then, without turning back and already having half-left the kitchen, he answered, "It reminds me of ma."

Not wanting to see Mohini's pitying expression, he left.

"Mr. Iyer, could I talk to you for a second?"

Arshad nearly groaned. Internally, he did. But instead he flashed his best fake smile and turned around to look at the black-haired headmaster. Arshad really _did_ like Mr. Michaelis, though there was something about the man that made him choose his words very carefully when talking to him.

"Mr. Michaelis. Yes, of course. What's u-…Uh, what's the matter?"

Michaelis crooked a brow at the familiar expression, but he didn't say anything. He probably had stopped bothering with Arshad's speech manners a long time ago.

"You're little ward appeared a bit…well, reluctant at the cricket team's practice today."

Arshad was dumbfounded for a moment. It wasn't that he didn't know how to answer, he simply had no clue whom the man was talking about. Until, suddenly, it clicked.

"Ward? Oh, you mean Kadar. Yeah, well, I think he _was_ reluctant. But is it really that much of a surprise?"

"Actually, it is."

When hearing this, Arshad had to admit he was a bit surprised. He had always thought that it was just the way of the teen. That ' _not caring_ ' was his way of living. But it seems like he'd been wrong all this time.

"Kadar has rather been a good student throughout the years. I don't suppose you know, and it's not my place to tell, but he's in a bad familial situation. Though it seems as if that hasn't affected his grades a bit."

Well, I _did_ know, Arshad thought, but didn't say. Instead he only nodded, listening to what the headmaster had to say.

"I know from your records that you had rough teen years yourself, so may I…"

Arshad cut him off, "We're already in contact. I'm not so keen on making friends with annoying teens, but Kadar's a nice one. All he needs is some…steadiness. I dunno how much help I can be, but I'm trying."

Michaelis obviously wanted to answer. Just in that moment, Arshad's phone ringed. A look at the display confirmed his assumptions.

"Speaking of the devil…," he muttered, looking up to Michaelis, "Sorry, it's our beloved. See you tomorrow."

In front of the school, Arshad picked the call up, leaning against one of the bike racks.

"Kadar. What's up?"

There was some unintelligible blabbering. Then, silence.

"Kadar?", Arshad asked again. He bit his lips, unsure of what to say. He decided then, that straightforward was the best option he got. "I meant no harm. I...It was...I should've asked, sorry."

Arshad heard a faint chuckle at the other end of the line. "It's alright. But I already told you there wasn't anything remotely similar to the bleach incident."

Said incident had been the very reason why Arshad had looked at Soma's records. He had wanted to know how bad it really was. If the teen had tried something similar in order to kill himself.

The words were out before Arshad had thought them over.

"How 'bout stayin' at my place?"

Stunned silence.

At least Arshad hoped it was stunned silence and not that the purple-haired teen had ended the call.

"Sure?" Soma finally answered, "It's...a little complicated here right now, anyways."

In that very moment, Arshad thought he'd had heard the breaking of glass.

"Kadar? Are you fine?"

"Yeah, sure." Arshad heard another breaking sound. "I ain't got your address."

So Arshad gave it to him.

It took Soma barely fifteen minutes to get to Arshad's place. And it wasn't really anything like he'd imagined it.

It seemed like a totally ordinary place. A totally ordinary building, with kids playing in the yard.

 _Apartment No. 25_ was written in the message he'd received from Arshad. He produced his phone from his pocket and called up the older man. It only ringed once until Arshad picked up.

"I'm not sure I'm at the right place," was the first thing Soma said.

At the other end of the conversation, Arshad was currently standing at the stove, stirring a soup in the pot. Upon the comment of the younger one, he opened the curtains.

"You are," he answered, "I can see you down in the yard."

He bit back a laugh. "You stand there looking extremely lost."

"I am," Soma confessed, huffing a breath. He craned his head, trying to figure out which window was Arshad's.

"Come on up," the white-haired man said into the phone, "Take the front door. Third floor, far left is my door. Don't ring, just knock and I'll open up."

Said and done. Soma was surprised that he found the apartment rather easily. Like he'd been instructed, he didn't ring the bell but simply knocked.

And it didn't take long until Arshad opened up. He wore only a plain black shirt, which hung loosely on his frame. Soma didn't want to know if he wore boxers underneath or didn't.

"Welcome," was the only thing that escaped the older man before he stepped back and re-entered his flat. Soma started, but soon followed after him, shutting the door behind himself.

"Your flat's so clean," the teen murmured to himself. The living room was decorated in saffron and earthy tones, long curtains dimming the sunlight. An old black leather couch stood in front of a flat screen, which towered above piled up boxes.

Perhaps 'clean' was the wrong word. Old newspapers lay spread out all over the floor, years of smoking had dyed the white walls a nasty shade of yellow and unsmoked cigarettes lined the couch table. But still, it was way cleaner than what Soma had expected.

"You know, if your plan is to just bicker about everything I do and am, you're very much welcomed to leave." Arshad had re-appeared with a bowl in hand and was now standing in front of Soma.

"Sorry," was all the teen answered.

Arshad nodded slowly. It seemed like he was processing the word. "Come on," he said and gestured for Soma to follow him. He did and Arshad led him to a room at the end of the hallway. The room had plain white walls and was, expect for a not-made bed, unfurnished.

"This is gonna be your room," Arshad explained, "Feel free to use it to your liking."

Soma shot him a glance. It wasn't that he wasn't grateful or happy, it was simply that he couldn't fathom a reason why the white-haired man was doing this.

Arshad noticed his look. "What?"

"Why are you doin' this, anyways?" Soma asked what was on his mind. He got not real answer but a simple shrug from Arshad and that was all there was to it.

"Dinner's in an hour," the older announced before leaving Soma alone in the room.

"I already ate," the teen answered.

"Your bad."

Smiling, Soma shook his head. Perhaps he didn't even need a reason. Perhaps he didn't even want one. His temporary stay wasn't a promise that things were going to work out, but it was a chance he got to try.


	3. Colors

**_Everything is grey_**

 ** _His hair, his smoke, his dreams_**

 ** _And now he's so devoid of color_**

 ** _He don't know what it means_**

\- **_Halsey - Colors_**

After unpacking the few things Soma had taken with him (some pajamas, his school uniform, some spare clothes and his toothbrush), he'd asked Arshad if he could take a shower. The man had nothing against it, and now the teen turned off the shower. He grabbed the towel he'd fetched out of the cupboard, while stepping out of the shower.

Arshad's bathroom was extremely organized. It was a little terrifying. All the after shave bottles on the shelf were arranged by color, the shaver stood in its holder. The towels in the cupboard had been neatly folded. Soma quickly put his still damp hair into a ponytail, before leaving the bathroom and entering the living room, where Arshad sat on a cushion on the floor and was obviously watching the news.

On the couch table stood several bowls, most of them filled with Indian food. A tray was filled with Naan.

"Do you have OCD?" Soma asked, sitting down on the couch and grabbing a plate. He began to fill his plate, grabbing some slices of the Naan and smelled it.

Arshad turned around to him. He already had a bowl in hand. "No?" came his answer.

"I just thought." Soma shrugged. "Your bathroom being so extremely organized and all."

"No, I don't," Arshad repeated himself, "Made yourself at home yet?"

The teen nodded. He hadn't yet made his bed, but he'd already filled the small closet with his few belongings. "I'm gonna bring more stuff over tomorrow," he answered.

Arshad crooked a brow, but his attention was back to the news. "Ain't nobody gonna notice?"

"Guess not," Soma answered. He was also looking at the TV now. Though there wasn't anything in the news he hadn't heard already. With the elections coming up, the whole country was awfully busy. And seemingly busy enough to forget the scandal of his father.

"Well then," Arshad exclaimed, "I'm gonna take you there tomorrow."

That seemed to satisfy the teen. They didn't talk much that evening. An occasional comment regarding the news or the food was all they spoke.

And so it actually didn't take long for Soma to decide that he'd be going to bed.

"I'm tired!" was all he said to declare that he, in fact, was going to sleep. Arshad turned down the volume of the TV and strained his neck to look at the teen. "Already?"

"Did you wanna pull an all-nighter with me?"

"What? No." Arshad really looked more confused than anything. It was kind of cute.

Soma couldn't help himself. He just had to make that joke. "Oh, so you wanted to spend the night _that way_. Well, guess that can be arranged. And don't worry, I won't tell the police."

His acquaintance's face turned a bright scarlet red. Soma didn't know if that meant that he in fact _had_ intended to spend the night like that, or the mere fact that Arshad was a grown man who was uncomfortable with sex talk.

"Okay, okay, sorry," Soma murmured in-between laughing fits, "I'll just…I, uh, I'm gonna go to bed. Night."

"Hey."

Surprised, Soma turned around. "What?"

Without looking at him, Arshad said, "You need somethin', you call me."

A little perplexed, the teen nodded. "Sure," he said.

That night, sleep just wouldn't come to Soma. No matter how hard he tried, his lids were heavy and his yawns didn't stop, but he couldn't fall asleep. When the bedside clock told him that it was already past midnight, he gave up and turned on his back.

Arshad had tried his best to make it feel like home. But Soma couldn't help and think of his brothers, Mohini – of his mother. Sighing, he set up and wiped the sweat from his forehead. It wasn't even particularly warm. Still, Soma was sweating. His shirt almost drenched.

He swung his legs out of bed. _You need somethin', you call me_ he'd said.

 _He was probably referring to material things. Not a pep talk_ , Soma thought. But still, could it really hurt to just ask him? Even though Arshad was most likely fast asleep by now.

Soma decided to get a glass of water. That was step one. He'd see what came after that. So he got up, quietly (or as quietly as possible) opened the door to his room and strode down the hallway till he reached the kitchen. One thing he'd found when entering Arshad's flat this afternoon was that every single room stunk of cigarettes. Except for his guest room.

He knew that Arshad was a chain smoker. He'd never liked, but accepted it. But nevertheless, Arshad had always been considerate of the younger. He'd rarely smoke around Soma.

Taking a gulp from his glass and then setting it down, Soma went back into the hallway. Not daring to turn on the lights, he made his way to Arshad's room, put his hand on the door handle and gently pushed it down.

"Arshad?"

Nothing moved. Understandably enough, since Soma's voice hadn't been really loud.

"Arshad?" This time, he spoke a bit louder. And this time, something stirred underneath the blanket.

Though "Mh?" was the only sound that left the other's mouth, Soma felt more encouraged and entered the room. He closed the door behind him and – froze. What was he supposed to do now?

"Hey, Arshad?" he whispered. The man stirred and suddenly the blanket moved. Arshad set up, lazily turning on his bedside lamp.

"Kadar? Hey, what's wrong? It's the middle of the night?!"

Suddenly, Soma wasn't as sure about this as he'd been before. "Sorry. A-And I know. But I…I just…I…I'm sorry, I'll go back to sleep now, it was stupid to wake you, sorry."

He had already turned around to leave the room, when Arshad held him back. "Kadar."

"I couldn't sleep," Soma finally said, "It's not that I don't feel comfortable I…To be honest, I don't know what's wrong."

He wasn't sure whether he'd heard correctly when Arshad asked him, "Do you want to sleep here?"

And he surely hadn't thought that _here_ really meant _here_ as in, Arshad's bed.

"Would it be alright?"

"Oh, stop being all that formal after you literally ripped me from my sleep. Just come over here and be quiet." Almost like an after-thought, he added, "And don't have any naughty thoughts."

Soma would have smiled, if it weren't for the fact that he was extremely tired and suddenly really exhausted. So he simply came over to the bed and slipped under the blanket.

Arshad turned the light back off and seemingly didn't pay much attention to the young teen who now shared a bed with him. Soma figured that his acquaintance was just too tired to care. _So_ , the teen wondered, _would he care if I…put my arms…?_

"Don't even dare."

Soma startled upon hearing the other's voice. Confused, he asked, "Dare what?"

"You were gonna put your arms around me, weren't ya?"

Soma lifted a brow, though knowing that Arshad couldn't see it. "What? You reading minds now?"

With a groan, Arshad turned around to look at the purple-haired boy. They couldn't see each other properly in the darkness of the room, but Soma had the faint feeling that Arshad's face was a mix of furor and amusement.

"No, I can't," he finally answered. He stretched out his arm and carefully touched the hand that Soma had left hanging in the air. "But…You know, you sometimes move without thinking. It's like your body has a different mind. You kinda need to get a grip on that, prince."

The teen didn't know whether to be angry at this or just stare at the white-haired man perplexedly. In the end, he scrunched his nose at the familiar nickname. "You promised to stop calling me that!"

He pulled his hand free from Arshad's grip – though he had to admit he'd rather liked it – and turned his back on him.

Arshad didn't apologize for the nickname he used. Instead, he did something Soma hadn't thought he would. He slowly put his arms around the teen and pulled him against his chest.

"It's only for tonight," Arshad mumbled into his violet ponytail, "Besides, it's way easier to strangle you in this position. And you're not able to try anything naughty."

Soma laughed wholeheartedly. "Yeah, you're right. What a shame though – _ouch._ "

Arshad had slapped him on the back. "Sleep. My patience's through with you."

"Alright," Soma smiled, "Love you."

"Yeah, lo-… _Kadar_."

But the teen was already fast asleep.


End file.
